


Waiting for the man

by daroos



Category: Journeyman, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Coma, Crossover, Gen, Time Travel, fixit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroos/pseuds/daroos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Vasser is called to England to fix an international continuity issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the man

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to an amazing beta, Chandri, without whom the english would be significantly worse.
> 
> Title is from the David Bowie song.
> 
> If you spot errors drop me a line and let me know!
> 
> Passing familiarity with both shows is a plus, but just in case...
> 
> Journeyman: Dan Vasser, investigative reporter in San Francisco is called through time to fix points in the timeline that have gone wrong and help people get down to the business of living their lives.
> 
> Life on Mars: Detective Sam Tyler is hit by a car and wakes up in 1973. Is he mad, in a coma, or back in time?

The moment Dan Vasser woke he knew something was wrong. The road was narrow like something out of Chinatown, but one side was lined in shops and the other an ancient-looking stone wall. The cars were small and 70s era - no Fords in sight. The steering columns were on the wrong sides and the license plates were the wrong shape. San Francisco this was not. 

A side lane on the already narrow street ejected a man wearing a not-cool-for-30-years moustache and windbreaker who bowled into Dan. They both went down hard. 

Three more men came pelting out of the lane, the first tackling Mr. Moustache who was attempting to get up and shouting triumphantly, "You're nicked! Hey, Gov, I got one!" 

A large man in a camelhair coat puffed to a stop by the two on the ground, doing what for him would probably be classified as smiling but looked more like something between a grimace and a monkey showing dominance.

"You all right?" The last man was helping Dan to stand, looking him up and down. Dan squinted and took a deep breath. "Did you hit your head?" he asked, now sounding concerned.

"Quit tossing around and help Chris," Camelhair growled.

Dan felt the back of his skull and winced. No blood but a serious goose egg where he'd cracked himself one. "I'll be all right - just give me a minute," he said quietly.

"I got him Gov" Chris said, sounding proud of himself. He looked to be early 20's and in 70's era garb. Right - 70s it was until proven otherwise.

"I think he's got a concussion," The man who was still steadying him replied testily.

"We're not paying you to babysit bystanders."

"He's a witness."

"Fine. Then you can walk him back to the station." Camelhair and Rookie stood with Mr. Moustache in cuffs. Obviously these were police, then.

"He just bowled into me. Really, I'm fine." It was too late, though, as the two frog-marched Mr. Moustache down the lane, leaving Dan with his savior.

"I apologize for my DCI. He's not the public relations mastermind one might hope for."

"It's fine - you guys obviously have a job to do." Something tickled Dan's subconscious - that gut feeling he had when he was supposed to track someone and set their paths right.

"Let's go - it's not far to the station and we can get you looked at. DI Tyler." It was obviously an introduction, but Dan couldn't think what DI stood for.

"Dan. Vasser," he amended.

"American?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah. I'm here on business," Dan improvised.

Tyler quirked an eyebrow at him as though to say, 'are you kidding me', "An American on business in Manchester?"

Manchester? "England?" Dan asked, not quite believing it.

Tyler laughed, "No, India." He replied, sarcastically. They walked slowly down the road. "Can I ask you a question, Dan Vasser?" Tyler asked, once more serious. Dan shrugged. He was taller than Tyler, and probably outweighed him by quite a bit as the other man was lean and angular. Perhaps that was just the peculiar fashion of the 70s, though. "Is that Gore-Tex?"

"What?"

"Your jacket. Is it Gore-Tex?" Tyler repeated slowly and clearly.

"Probably. My wife bought it."

Tyler's eyes grew wide. "Are you screwing around with me?" he asked, suddenly much too serious.

"I'm not screwing around with you," Dan protested, confused.

"Gore-Tex wasn't commercially available as a waterproof fabric until the late 80's. It wasn't until the 90's we got it in the UK - made the foot patrol on wet days a lot more doable. And right here, right now," Tyler expelled a pent up breath in frustration, "it is 1973. So who are you really, Dan Vasser?"

"Woah, calm down. You're talking like you know the future."

"You're talking like you're _from_ the future." Tyler hissed, angry and confused.

Dan stopped and leaned against the wall. "I just got hit in the head," he said, tiredly. He had been pulled away from a late rendezvous with a contact in the dock-worker's union after a very full day to Manchester, freaking, England. How had that even happened?

Tyler took a step back and looked at Dan once more. "I was hit by a compact and woke up in 1973," he said, finally.

Dean blinked. "Well that's a new one," Dan thought a minute, "A compact what?"

Ignoring Dan's question, "Isn't it. I was sure I was just mad. Or in a coma. And then you show up." Tyler was frowning furiously and chewing on the knuckle of his index finger. "Why am I even telling you this?" Tyler took Dan by the elbow and they began walking again. 

The station was around a corner and up more stairs than Dan was feeling good about. A dour woman in uniform sat at the front desk. "Phyllis, can you get Annie to see to him?"

"This isn't a hospice," Phyllis retorted.

"He's a witness. I need him in one piece." Tyler escorted him through the desks and into the one office labeled "DCI Hunt" and under that in pencil, "your lord and master".

"Annie." Tyler greeted a woman in uniform with dark curls and big eyes gratefully.

"What's the matter now, then?" she asked, sounding irritated.

"Kruppers ran him down before we got a hold of him. He's got a concussion, I think."

"I'm fine. Really, I should just-"

"American then?" she cut him off. "Nice to know the Yankee boys aren't any better at taking nursing than our lads. Sit you down and let’s have a look," she felt his skull carefully and looked into his eyes with a flashlight. "You'll do. No worse than Sam here when he came in."

"Sam?" Dan asked. Annie indicated Tyler with her head. "He'd took a right good blow to the head as well."

"And thanks to your doctoring I went on to lead a perfectly normal life," he ushered Annie out and sat facing Dan with a look of utter confusion. "Are you from the future?" he asked quietly. "Or have I truly gone mad?"

Dan glanced about the office and out its windows to the detectives' desks as though hoping for rescue. "I travel in time," he said finally.

Sam Rolled his eyes. "Prove it," Sam shot back. Replying to Dan's incredulous look, "Please. I just... need to see it with my own eyes."

Dan dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a credit card receipt from Best Buy, which he gave to Sam. "Holy..." Sam rubbed his face hard and tipped back his head. "This-" he waved the receipt in the air as though showing evidence to the world.

"A bit over a year ago I started having these episodes," Dan began, looking as earnestly at Sam as he possibly could. That look had gotten a lot more practiced in the year since he'd begun traveling. "They were like vivid dreams, but I would wake up in different places, or bring things back with me... Anyway, I was traveling in time, apparently."

"Apparently," Sam repeated deadpan.

"Well I didn't exactly sign up in the Time Travel Corps. Look, every time I go back, I follow someone in their life and, I don't know, make sure they stay on the right path. I think I'm here for you."

Hunt, or Camelhair as Dan thought of him, chose that moment to burst into his office. "Oi - are you two having a bloody tea party?" he growled.

"No, Gov. Dan and I were just catching up, actually."

"You two know each other?" Hunt asked, as though the idea of two men having met was somehow extremely distasteful.

"I was a... Foreign correspondent in England in '68. We met when I was looking into-" Dan began improvising. Damn but he was wishing this jump would end.

"-an international money laundering scheme. In Hyde," Sam finished.

"Money laundering. In HYDE?" Hunt looked like the very thought hurt him.

"Well, technically it was in Stockport, but one of the fellow's Gran's-"

"Save me the details," Hunt sighed heavily, shucking his coat. "You're a reporter then," he glared at Dan as though he would rather he was a genuine criminal.

"I'm really just visiting."

Hunt's eyes bulged. "Visiting what?"

"Old churches," Sam supplied.

"I really love... old churches," Dan agreed. "The glass, the stone work. The history of them is just..." Hunt was unconvinced. "I'm writing a book."

"Bloody journalists will write a book on anything these days. Who buys these things?" Hunt muttered to himself. "Fine then. Both of you, out of my office. And if I see one word of this in the local papers I will have your guts over the front door."

Dan wasn't sure if it was Sam or himself the threat was meant for. Sam took him by the shoulder and led him out of the office. "Where are we going?"

"My place." Sam said, smiling tightly. "There at least, it's quiet. We can talk without interruptions."

They walked slowly in the streets of 1970 Manchester. Dan stripped his jacket and tried to look less out of place which only made him more conspicuous. "You were pretty quick on your feet covering for me."

"We made a good team of liars," Sam conceded. "I used to be a good copper, you know." Sam fiddled with his nails almost self-conscious. "Now everyone at the station think I'm a bit of a washer-" at Dan's confused look, "A drunk," Sam clarified. "I just want to get home."

"There is something beyond wrong, here."

"You're telling me." Sam opened the door to his apartment, ushering Dan in.

"Woah." Pea green paisley walls warred with the shag carpet.

"Yeah." Sam uncorked an already opened bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

"I've met other travelers like me," Dan began. "We all travel by following someone and helping them. We just pop in and out of time and pop right back. Sometimes we'll get stuck - drugs or...." He stopped, thinking. Sam plopped on the murphy bed which shook alarmingly and handed over the spare glass. "None of us were ever hit by a car and jumped. None of us ever jumped into a- a setup. We go with the clothes on our back and come back with whatever was in our hands."

"God. Some days I wish I was just insane," Sam muttered.

"It would be easier wouldn't it?" They shared a look of understanding. "Why don't you tell me everything from the start, and we'll go from there."

Sam's story poured out of him, how the first case he worked in '73 was the one that inspired the case his girlfriend in 2006 had been kidnapped about. How the test card girl on the television talked to him. How he got calls from doctors and occasionally talked to the radio. How everyone here thought he had been transferred in from Hyde for being too unconventional or too much of a stickler, or both. And how the only person he'd told the whole thing to was Annie in the Women's Division who had checked over Dan's head.

"I need to get back to my time to see what happened to you," Dan said finally. "This is all way too weird. I can't guarantee I can do anything about it, though - this is way beyond my realm of expertise."

"But you don't think I'm mad?" Sam asked.

Dan grinned wryly, "No more than I was when this started happening. I've met enough people in the 70s to know what they're like. You don't belong here."

Dan fell asleep in Sam's chair and woke up in his own bed. Katie had left several messages on his phone, which he returned. He'd missed his contact but she'd made another appointment for him. Popping on the internet he pulled up an article about Sam's accident. "Manchester DCI hospitalized in traffic accident." It wasn't front page news, but it had what Dan needed - DCI stood for Detective Chief Inspector, by the way. Dan called the hospital that Sam had initially been admitted to. He was still there, almost two years later, in the long term care unit. They wouldn't release much of the information to Dan, let alone over the phone, but he was in a persistent vegetative state, according to the nurse on the floor. Everything else Sam had told him checked out and the photo was unmistakably him, despite the different era of dress.

The question was, what was Sam doing in 1973? The thought was barely crystallized when he felt himself pulled through time once more. He was close to the station and began ambling towards it. It was late afternoon by the look of it. The same dour woman was at the front desk. Dan approached. She gave him a leery visual once over, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for DI Tyler."

Phyllis raised an eyebrow. "The boys are down at the Railway Arms, celebrating." At Dan's blank look, "Down the road, right down Pierce lane, can't miss it."

The Railway Arms was a small pub around the corner from the station. The bartender was all big grins and dreadlocks. The whole place went quiet when Dan walked in. Sam had been laughing with a group of detectives - his smile dropped when he saw Dan. He excused himself from the group, waving to everyone else as though to reassure them that their territory had not been invaded. "Two weeks I've been here," Sam hissed, ushering Dan out into the back alleyway. "I was worried when you just disappeared from my front room."

"I was only home for half a day, but I did get to look into some things." Sam looked expectant. "Where I come from, you're still in a coma. Your body is there, in the hospital."

"What does that mean?"

"There's no chance you're a traveler. When I travel I'm gone - missing persons' report and everything."

"Well can't you just take me back with you? I can get a flight home from America." Sam let them into his apartment which had only managed to get dirtier and uglier in the interim time.

"I can't do that. I've never traveled with another person - I don't think it's possible. Besides, there's already a you in that time. I don't know much about this business but I know we're not supposed to meet ourselves."

"Then..." Sam paced, otherwise at a loss. "Then why are you here?" He dropped heavily into his chair.

"I don't know," Dan growled. "I could be here to get you to wake up. It might just be to offer some comfort - a different perspective on things here. Maybe the accident knocked you unstuck from the normal flow of time..."

"Or you could just be another manifestation of my increasing insanity - the final proof that I've come unhinged."

Dan rolled his eyes. "I would agree except for the fact that I'm not a figment of your delusional state."

Sam began objecting but Dan cut him off, "I have to go. I don't know when I'll be back but hold on here."

Dan was gone in a flash of light.

Dan arrived inside a building. It was night and the halls were dim. The faint smell of people and antiseptic meant it was probably a hospital. Down the hall was a nurse's station with a tired looking nurse. She stood and looked at the clipboards before choosing one and going on rounds. Dan slipped behind the desk to look at the charts. Tyler S. jumped out at him as did the date on the computer. June 20th, 2006. The nurse continued her rounds allowing Dan to edge down the hallway unnoticed. He slid through the crack in the proper room's door and there he was.

Far from the vital, fiery man he'd met in 1973 this Sam lay slack and pale, the muscles and flesh of his face sunken into pits.

"Oh!" An older woman he hadn't noticed in the visitor chair started awake. "You're not the nurse." She sounded more surprised than alarmed.

"Pardon me. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"Oh, don't worry. Nobody much is still coming by to visit Sammy." She smiled fondly at the prone man.

"I'm Dan Vasser, by the way. You're Sam's mother?" He stuck out a hand which she shook politely.

"American?" She asked.

Dan snorted a laugh, "Do I have a sign on me or something?"

"How do you know Sammy?" She asked kindly.

"I met him when he was a DI. I was writing for a magazine at the time. I only just heard recently."

"I'm surprised they let you in. It's after visiting hours."

"Yeah, well - I've been on the road for 43 years. They took pity on me."

Mrs. Tyler frowned in confusion, "Well take your time then. Don't mind me."

Dan approached the bed warily. "Aw, Sam. What am I supposed to do for you?" He laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, the warmth of his body bleeding through the thin hospital gown.

The contact sparked something between them and a massive iron-spike through the head headache and a coiling burning in his stomach hit him in waves. The power of a jump was building faster and bigger than it ever had. He cast a desperate look over his shoulder at Sam's mother, gone back to her nap. He gripped Sam's arm firmly, hoping he wouldn't be jerked too badly in the trip. 

He blinked out of 2006 and opened his eyes on 1973. Sam was beside him, sprawled on the murphy bed.

Sam came awake with a gasp, coughing, eyes wild.

"Easy. Calm down,” Dan said soothingly, keeping him lying down with a hand on his chest.

"Dan?" He asked confused. "What happened?" He ran a tongue over his teeth and made a face.

"I got sent to your hospital room."

"And?" He asked. "Augh- what did I eat?"

"I brought you back."

"You-" Sam raised his head enough to see the hospital gown before dropping back on the pillow. "I was just at the locks," He mused. "God I've got to pee." He swung his legs to the side of the bed and struggled.

Dan helped him upright. "Easy- you've been in the hospital for five months. It might take you awhile to get back on your feet."

Sam glared at Dan as the surrogate for all the indignity he felt. They glared back and forth until Sam ran out of heat. "Lets get you to the bathroom." Dan helped him to the little closet the apartment called a bathroom. Sam leaned against the wall opposite the toilet and Dan left to give him some privacy. The toilet flushed and Dan helped him back to bed.

"I hurt all over,” Sam groused.

"You've been in a coma. You need to give yourself a break."

"Ugh." Sam leaned back against the headboard in a semi-upright slouch. "Give me the phone." At Dan's questioning look, "I need to call Annie." Dan handed him the receiver which he dialed. "Yeah, it's Sam." Obviously she had picked up. "I need some help - can you come over?" A pause, "As quick as you can, please." He hung up. "Can you find me some pants?"  
~*~  
Annie came in without knocking. "You." Her eyes got big when she saw Dan slouched in Sam's chair. "I thought you were back in America."

"Yeah." Dan squinted and rubbed his head. "I'm actually a time traveler."

Annie rolled her eyes, "'course you are." She frowned at Sam. "What's the matter with you, then?" She asked.

Sam grimaced and raised his hospital gown. A shunt for a feeding tube stuck several inches out of lax stomach skin, held in place by a little plastic clip. Annie gaped. "What's that?"

"It's a feeding tube," Sam replied.

"It's for people who can't swallow like those in long term coma care," Dan elaborated.

"I've never heard of it," Annie said suspiciously.

"I got him from 2006 - medicine advanced a bit since now."

"I needed help removing it." Sam said, lying limply on his bed.

"What you _need_ is a doctor," She chided.

"A doctor would just chuck me in the loony bin. Look, there's a first aid kit under the sink - just take it out and patch me up, okay?"

Dan went to get the kit, Annie and Sam bickering. Annie removed the shunt (which it turned out was kept in with a little, now deflated, balloon) and put two stitches through, objecting all the way. Sam passed out some way through the procedure, a look of supreme unhappiness on his face.

"What's wrong with him?" Annie asked when she had finished.

"His body's been in a coma for five months. His muscles have atrophied and he's been on a liquid diet. He'll need some time to get back in shape. It looks like he's been in some rather vigorous physical therapy or he'd be in much worse shape."

"Physical therapy? While he's in a coma?"

"To keep some muscle tone."

Annie chewed on her lip. "I was always sure Sam was just a bit dotty and then you show up."

"Sorry." Dan shrugged. "If it helps, I think Sam is wholly here now. I don't think he'll be disappearing back to 2006."

"Was that ever an option?"

Dan shrugged. Sam chose that moment to come around looking thoroughly wretched. "Gene is going to have a field day with me."

"Just tell him you got sick and need some leave."

"That won't be hard for him to believe. You look like a stiff breeze would blow you over." Annie fussed with his blanket but stepped back abruptly when she realized what she was doing.

Sam sighed heavily. "Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you take me home?" he asked Dan, frowning.

"Maybe this is where you're supposed to be." Replying to Sam's skeptical look, "Hey, I'm just the good Samaritan. The rest you need to figure out for yourself."

Sam stilled Annie's hand which had wandered back to smooth his bedsheets repetitively. "Maybe this is where I belong now." Dan moved on through a ripple in reality.


End file.
